Wolves at the Door
by DominoFalling
Summary: Sequel to “Currency of the Heart”. Vetinari falls foul of Werewolf tradition. A story in 3 chapters - complete. Rating PG13 for violence, torture and language.
1. The Tempting Dish

Wolves at the Door

_Mr Terry Pratchett, the great and devious creator of the Discworld owns everything about it – no copyright infringement intended._

**Author's Note 1:**  This is a sequel to my first Discworld story "Currency of the Heart".  Although I think "Wolves at the Door" will stand up as a story in its own right, it will help to know that Avor is a country in the mountains between Klatchistan and Überwald rich in magic and diamond mines.  In "Currency" Silana, the heir to Avor's failing King, Chose Lord Vetinari to be her partner.  The story continues….

**Author's Note 2:**  Following invaluable feedback and story ideas from Mercator (waves) the first two chapters have additional scenes, and if improved it is all due to Mercator's very generous help.

Chapter 1:  The Tempting Dish 

Lord Silk of Ankh had been very precise with his instructions to the catering supplier, but still the dwarf argued, "Surely his Lordship would want such a magnificent serving platter to be finished in silver?"

Angrily Worik Silk responded.  "Under no circumstances should the dish or its lid have even a hint of silver – oiled steel is what I want and steel will be what I get."  The artisan bowed his obedience to the insistent Lord, but again looked in puzzlement at the drawing on the parchment of the strangely designed, oversized platter and its accoutrements, he frowned to himself, but it did not do to ask too many questions of these aristocrats. 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Drumknott rushed along beside the Patrician taking last minute instructions, the message had come through that the baby was coming early and the Patrician wanted to be with his wife as soon as possible.  Vetinari had put a contingency plan in place for just such an event, ensuring that his rule of the city would have the minimum of disruption.

They reached the carriage.  "Re-schedule the meeting on Thursday for the following week, with my apologies, and clacks me with the final trade figures please."

            "Yes my Lord."  Drumknott said.  And shyly, once the Patrician had climbed into the carriage.  "Good luck my Lord, to you and the Princess."

Vetinari gave one of his quick smiles.  "Thank you Drumknott."  And he was gone, the horses thundering towards the palace gates and the long road to Avor.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vetinari was dozing when the coach made the crossing of the Smarl river on the new bridge, somehow his subconciousness registered that they then turned Hubwards rather than staying on the road to Avor - he became alert immediately but gave no outward sign.

When the coach next slowed for a tight turn Vetinari sprang into action.  Drawing the sword from his stick he grabbed the coach door handle and tried to turn it.  The handle stayed solidly in place, but as soon as he had in haste touched the handle he realised his mistake, something had pricked into the fingers of his hand – he felt the poison enter into his bloodstream and race up his arm – he felt the paralysis take hold of his body, all too soon his mind became the only active part of his existence; at first wondering just how much the Assassins had been paid and then mourning for making his wife a widow so soon, he lost consciousness on that sad thought.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Silana, Princess of Avor and new wife to Lord Vetinari of Ankh-Morpork felt two quite different pains at once.  First her baby kicked quite hard inside her and the old eagle's wound at her shoulder flared.  One of her ladies, Hejace, noticed her sudden paleness and went to her aid but was silenced by the Princess' outstretched palm.  "Hold."  Silana closed her eyes and concentrated on the partner to her shoulder wound… nothing… no consciousness… nothing (which was strange in itself, the bond of magic had grown between them since their marriage, she could normally judge his mood, if nothing else).  So she concentrated on Havelock's direction from Avor, reached out to him with her blood and her soul, finding his direction, she was immediately concerned - the tug was further hubwards than it should be.  She frowned and rose; with the aid of Hejace she went to find her father the King.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vetinari woke, bound and gagged with a familiar face above him, Lord Silk – well it had to be one of the lords, no one else would be stupid enough or ambitious enough to want him out of the way.

            "Glad to see you are awake old man.  Just thought I'd let you know that General Audice Paggett is going to take your Princess - and I do mean that literally - once she is your widow, and I am going to hand you over to someone who has paid me a lot of money to have you for dinner."  Worik Silk smiled.  "And I know you won't enjoy the evening one bite."  He snorted at his little joke.  "And for myself; I believe there is going to be a vacant post at the palace."  Silk reached out and scratched a pin across the Patrician's neck and Vetinari felt the now familiar drug begin to take effect.  'Silana!' he called with all his will and soul, his mind fading fast.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

In Avor the old King gathered his wolves to him.  "Time to hunt, but first my friends we must prepare you with weapons to destroy the prey."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Sam Vimes received an urgent coded clacks from the Princess of Avor – the messenger knocked at the Ramkin-Vimes mansion during dinner and as it was Willikins' night off, Vimes opened the door himself.  Sybil looked up when Sam walked back into the dining room and watched with interest as, chewing on a pencil, he slowly deciphered the message.

            "What is it Sam?"  She asked, concerned.

            "The Princess says Vetinari has been abducted – says he didn't arrive at the coaching stop after the Smarl.  She and Vetinari have got that Avor magic affinity thing and she says she thinks Vetinari is being taken to Überwald, she can't say where but she says he is in great danger.  The King is going to investigate but his power continues to fade, she's asking me to go as well…."  Sam looked up at Sybil, they both knew how close to disaster their last trip to that country had come.

For a moment their eyes locked over the unspoken question, Sybil took a deep breath.  "Of course you should go Sam, and I will go to the Princess – she is so close to her term, this must be terrifying for her."

Vimes sprinted upstairs and took down his 'Next time I visit Überwald' case from the top of his wardrobe.  The swords, daggers and cross bow bolts no longer glinted, the surface having tarnished a little since Vimes had received his special order from the armourers, the silver which coated the steel having reacted with the air.  He added a couple of sturdy wooden stakes and he was ready to kick rears in Überwald.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

At the Watch house Vimes scooped Carrot and Angua up in his wake.  "I can't order you to come with me but I need your help."

            "What's up sir, I am sure both Sergeant Angua and I would like to do our best to assist."  Carrot said.

            "The Patrician has been abducted and is being taken to Überwald."

            "Do we know which faction is responsible Sir?"  Angua asked, very aware of her former country's politics.

            "At this point we have only a brief message from the Princess of Avor – so we know very little.  Just that the Patrician is in danger and needs rescuing."

            "Or his captors are in danger and need rescuing from the Patrician."  Carrot muttered almost to himself.  Out loud he said.  "We will of course come with you."  Angua glared at him.  "I just assumed…."

            "You always do."  She said testily, but to Vimes.  "I will come with you, but you must realise that my influence with my family is non-existent, if we need their help I will not be able to call on them."

            "Noted."  He looked at them both.  "I've got fast horses being delivered here in half an hour.  Pack what you need, its summer so snow only in the high mountains but we may have to camp out."

            "Yes Sir."  

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

The large trolley with the oversized platter was rolled in.  The banqueting guests quieted of their own accord, all eyes hungrily focused on the new dish.  Baroness Serafine Von Überwald rose from her place next to the Baron at the head table and walked to the dish.  To say that the Baron's tongue was hanging out with anticipation would not have been far from the truth.

            "Friends, I present to you the man responsible for the destruction of my son and our present low standing in this, our own country."  The servants dramatically pulled off the lid to reveal a naked man lying full length, his long limbs manacled to the dish – garnish spread around him, parsley covering his more private parts and a mock apple trapping his jaws open.  The prisoner closed his eyes at the sudden light, pulling weakly against his bonds.  The room erupted into cheers, catcalls and applause.  The Baroness' smile froze on her face when she noticed how feeble her prisoner's struggles were.  She beckoned Lord Silk over.  "He is drugged?"  She whispered, trying to control her anger.

            "I would not bring a trained assassin into your presence Baroness without drugging him, Vetinari is dangerous even when bound and apparently helpless."

The woman's eyes flared.  "This is far from satisfactory Silk, drugged he cannot appreciate the true horror of his situation, and the pain will be dulled, and why that stupid apple in his mouth?"

            "It is acting as a gag Madam."

"I want to hear his terror."

"But he could use sarcasm, and even irony against us – believe me the gag is safer."

"You give Vetinari too much credit, he is still just a man."

            "If you ever think that Baroness then you vastly under estimate your enemy."

Serafine gave Silk a cold look, '_The coward, that's what you get for employing weak city nobles.  Still, another day would not make that much difference'_.  She raised her voice to her still cat-calling (unusual for a dog related race) audience.  "Friends, we will enjoy the terror of our tempting dish another night…"  the audience made disappointed noises "…but we all know good meat needs to be hung before it is truly tender."  The wit of the remark and the idea of the victim's continued suffering pleased them.  Serafine waved the lid to the platter back on – she had barely looked at Vetinari but had decided that away from his city and his minions the slender man on the platter did not look like much of a challenge for even a Werewolf child.  Silk had obviously been overawed by the Patrician's reputation.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

The meat was quite well hung Serafine decided as she walked into the cell.  The Patrician's head came up, blue eyes burning as the woman in the flowing green dress entered.  She tried to meet those eyes with a haughty stare but realised there was something unsettling about them, something in them said 'death' very quietly in the night next to your ear when you thought you were safe in bed and made you cower under the sheets.  Something in those blue eyes said 'assassin' and 'I have assessed your weaknesses and at the right price you will be inhumed'.  Serafine tried not to turn away but had to, she covered it by calling a guard and angrily saying "I ordered his gag to be removed."  

The normally robust jailor said. "We did Baroness but…"

            "But what?"

            "He said things your ladyship…"

            "What things?"

            "Ah, it was not so much what he said but the way he said it… we just put the gag back… for our own peace of mind you see… I can take it out for you now."  He hurried to put deed to word then scuttled out of the cell.  Serafine thought the jailor's undue haste was to avoid her anger but the guard knew that what the prisoner could do verbally was far more menacing.

Ungagged the man remained silent.  Serafine tried to meet his gaze again but to her own amazement failed, she tried to play the silence game too but something in his eyes made her want to babble at him.  Movement, a Werewolf needs to move, she walked round his bound form, noting the long limbs, lean muscles held taught by the chains at wrists and ankles.  The white skin just asking to be marred by her claws.

            "Do you know why you are here Vetinari?"  Silence.  Silence.  Her circuit of him brought her back to face him.  "At home in your pathetic little city you may be important but here you are nothing."  She slapped him hard across the face, he rolled his head with the blow, then, not acknowledging the pain, brought his eyes back up to stare, a stare that said she was an insect under his magnifying glass.  If it wasn't for the red mark growing on his cheek there was no evidence on Vetinari's part that the exchange had taken place – she had to admit, he was unnerving.  

She walked behind him – partly to get away from those dammed eyes.  Before he arrived she had considered how to punish him, but had dismissed torture as not the Werewolf way, she had decided he should be the main dish at her banquet – but his drugged state on arrival had made that impractical.  But his insolence and silence were making her want to force a reaction from him, any normal man would be shaking in terror just to be captive in the castle of the Überwald Clan – but Vetinari just seemed to be waiting.  Perhaps a little pain would awaken his mind to the danger he was in.  She morphed her right hand into its wolf alter ego and slid a sharp claw from the top of his shoulder down over his shoulder blade.  He could not help but try to move his body away from the pain, muscles straining against his bonds, stretching to escape the cruelty of her cut.  Serafine just followed his movement, keeping the pressure to slice him in one long red slow line down his back past his waist to his buttock.  Serafine did not have the satisfaction of hearing him cry-out but at least she knew the basilisk of a man could feel pain.  

            "You took both of my children from me.  You sent your henchman Vimes to kill my son – you did not have the grace to come in person.  And you gave my daughter shelter, without you and your damn City Watch she would have come back – eventually – but now they are both gone and my empty den is because of you."

She walked in front of him, wanting to see pain in his face.  She placed her razor sharp claw to meet her first scratch on his shoulder and brought it slowly down his chest, down his chest muscle, scratching across the sensitive flesh at his nipple, passing along his ribs, down his slim belly to the sharp bone at his hip and to his thigh.  Not even a twitch of his facial muscles, and as he had learnt the lesson that there was no point in trying to pull away, she did not even have the satisfaction of seeing him try to flinch to escape the pain.  "I'll go after Vimes next, once he knows he failed to defend his master – he'll die wallowing in that failure and knowing I revenge what he did to my son.  Then will be the turn of your bitch wife and pup…."  Finally a flicker in his eyes.  "…by then her father will be too weak to defend her and she'll be mourning her lost husband – I'll make sure she knows why, as I slowly kill your child in front of her, make her know that terrible loss – I might even let her live so she knows what it is to live without the flesh one's body bore."  The blue burn of his eyes was more controlled than she expected but it was still there.  And yes, he had a weakness, the Jewell of Avor had got inside his heart and his vulnerable child was important, this iceman burned inside for the plight of family, finally a weapon to use against him – to make him know her own pain of loss.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

After the Baroness left him Vetinari tried to assess his situation dispassionately.  The wounds she had inflicted, though painful, were mostly surface scratches – she had not gone as far as damaging muscles yet – he would still be able to move once free.  She had threatened his eyes but had not followed through.  On the whole he was still in reasonable shape – though blood trickled down his chest and back at the moment – it would stop before he was overly weakened.  He had been refusing water but realised from what the Baroness said that the water probably wasn't going to be drugged anymore, and he needed to keep his strength up – they hadn't offered him food and he would have to assume that would remain the case.  He was cold and he had lost feeling in his arms from them being chained above him for so long – something that would have to be taken into account when making his escape.  His wrists and ankles he knew were damaged from their bindings and he was sure he had been kicked while unconscious – probably by that coward Silk– his ribs were bruised and aching.  He was un-gagged again, he had his voice – which gave him another chance to get to work on the guards' minds.  

That was his assessment of his physical state, mentally he was nearly free of the drugs but being distracted by the hunger in his belly.  And he was tired; being drugged unconscious was not as restful as it sounded.  Plus sleeping standing up was not a talent he had mastered so every time he had dozed off last night the weight of his body on his arms soon became excruciating and woke him.  He assumed tonight would be more of the same.

Emotionally he had been trying not to think of Silana – she was too much of a distraction - but he gave himself some minutes to consider the plight of his wife and their baby.  The Baroness had mentioned his child, so was the baby yet born?  He had been hard pressed not to ask.  He had assumed that the message saying that the baby had started to come early was just a way to get him to travel to Avor when they wanted him to.  He needed to know if Silana and the child were safe, and what of Silk's threat about Audice, it seemed unlikely that the King's General would do anything to hurt Avor's heir?  However, he remembered Paggett looking strangely at Silana once when he thought no one was observing – gods he was scared for her and it was distracting him from the task at hand - escape – one of the prices of getting emotionally involved with another human being.  

Too many questions, too few answers – and he wasn't going to ask any of those questions of the deranged she-wolf.

Perhaps there was another way.  He held the image of Silana's smiling face and mischievous green eyes in his mind – and for a second there seemed to be a presence, his eagle scarred shoulder ached and he had a feeling of re-assurance, perhaps being the Chosen of Avor was of benefit.  Silana had tried to take back the Choosing all those months ago, but maybe there was enough of the magic left in the eagle scar on his shoulder.  The thought crossed his mind that he wasn't quite as alone in this as he had thought.  He concentrated on his shoulder and on her image, nothing.  Concentrated harder till sweat stood out on his brow despite the chill in this cold cell.  Then something, something… "_HAVELOCK!!!"_  Good gods!  Silana was in pain, terrible pain.  "What….?"   Moments more of that shocking pain and then her thoughts weekly  "_I've sent father_."  Then the presence was gone.  Shuddering from the shock of the contact, for a moment his mind raced in confusion, then the realisation entered his head that his wife was in the extremis of childbirth – she had reached out to him.  So their child was yet to be born.  However, Silana would at least have been safe if her father was still there – but she had sent the old King to rescue him – leaving herself vulnerable.  Vetinari's only hope would be to keep Serafine long enough distracted, and if he fell, then he knew Vimes would do his best to fight the Werewolves, perhaps buying enough time for Silana to be strong when the bitch Baroness came for her.  His young wife was a lot more resourceful than Serafine would anticipate – he just hoped Silana would be ruthless enough when it came to it.  

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vimes and his party rode hard, changing horses at way stations they rested only when the alternative was to drop exhausted from their horses or their horses drop exhausted from under them.  

A black driverless coach stood at the border into Überwald.  On his last visit as the Ambassador of Ankh-Morpork Vimes had been obstructed by the border guards.  This time when he and his party were forced to stop by the wooden barrier, Vimes was waved respectfully towards the black coach by the guards.  He dismounted and opened the door.  Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Lady Margolotta Von Überwald sitting in the darkened coach.  "Sir Samuel, how pleasant to see you again."

            "I wish I could say the same Margolotta, what do you want?  I haven't got time for your games."

            "I know, and if I had found out sooner, believe me Baroness Serafine would not have received delivery of Lord Vetinari two days ago."

            "How do I know that is not just a blind to get me off the scent?"

            "Because if I vanted Havelock here I would have invited him."  And Margolotta's look implied that the Patrician would have come at her bidding.  "However, za Baroness has been strange since you executed her son – I zink she has chosen to vent her revenge on the Patrician – her attentions are unwelcome.  I vish to help."

            "And I should trust you?"

            "Do not judge all vampires by your prejudice Sir Samuel, some humans even call some of uz friends."  Vimes wondered if she meant for him to include Vetinari in that remark.  "And now I vould tell you that the Baroness intends to hunt the Patrician in The Great Game tomorrow morning."

Vimes gave her one of his harder – '_You look guilty son'_ looks that made miscreants shiver in their boots back in Ankh – Margolotta tried not to be impressed.  "And you have not tried to rescue him because?"  He asked.

            "The Verewolves know how to keep out vampires, just as I know how to defend against zer kind.  You are vasting time Commander, you are losing daylight, much more and Havelock will lose his life."  

Vimes hated to admit it but Margolotta was the only game in town.  "Where is he?"

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

The feeling was just about coming back into Vetinari's arms and shoulders as they led him out of the castle dungeon in chains – he was regretting the return of feeling, the pins and needles were excruciating as the circulation returned.  He squinted against the sudden daylight.  They had not given him any clothes or boots, he gritted his teeth, stood up straight and wrapped his dignity around himself like a cloak.  The cobbles and stones of the courtyard were sharp on his feet.  The sun was hiding behind clouds making the day dull and grey and cold, Vetinari tried not to shiver.  _'Perhaps a run would warm me… for a time'_.  He thought with irony.

The Baroness stood near the drawbridge with about 30 other Werewolves – most still in human form, the Baron was among them.  "It is the Lore that I give you one hours lead, Bonk is 7 miles that way, you may not enter a dwelling – reach Bonk and we will let you live.  Let us catch up with you and we will breakfast.  What say you murderer?"

Vetinari finally decided to speak, now that he had more than the insane Baroness as an audience.  He had no delusion that he could sway them, but every moment of speech was another moment of time in which, by some million to one chance, something might happen to rescue him.  He raised his voice, the rabble quietened.  "I interpret your abduction and threat of harm to the person of the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork as an act of war against my domain – withdraw your threat and return me safely to Ankh and the matter may be settled peacefully."

The Baron growled.  "You have no standing army.  No one cares enough about you to raise one.  Your threat is empty."  

"Do you think the same of Avor, Baron?  I am the Chosen Heir – the whole Disc must be aware of the force raised to liberate Ankh – do you think they will rest until I am revenged."  

Serafine laughed.  "We do not fear Avor's ailing King, his General is as good as being our General and your wife is little more than a child."  

Two burley male Werewolves came forward, one held Vetinari while the other removed his chains – they stepped back quickly.  "And if I choose not to run?"  Vetinari asked.

            "Run or we breakfast, here, now."  The Baron moved forward threateningly.

            "Then I wish you bad hunting."  Vetinari set off down hill glad of the grass on his feet.  Appreciating how Vimes must have felt when he had been the victim of the Great Game – Vimes had been running through snow, at least Vetinari did not have that extreme cold to deal with but he would soon need to find something to protect his feet – and weapons.  His assassin discipline had kept him reasonably fit, but the old gonne shot wound in his thigh pained him – he tried to ignore it and set such a pace for himself that soon had his lungs aching and muscles complaining – plus the abuse Serafine and Silk had put his body through made even small exertions at first seem like mountain climbing.  He pressed on wanting to get as much distance in that first all-important hour as possible.  He tried to remember the geography and Vimes' description of his own flight – but that had been from a different start point.

Vetinari came to a streambed and spotted some likely stones, he gave himself a few panting moments to catch his breath, scooping up water in his palm to drink.  Then picked up a stone – he found a larger stone and struck the smaller stone on it hard – and was pleased when the smaller stone sparked and cracked into three sharp pieces.  The Baroness had taken away all his civilised resources so it was time to resort to the tools of the Stone Age.  Holding the broken shards carefully in his fists he ran on.

He found a fallen tree with heavy bark and cut off wide strips using the sharp stone edge as a knife, then ran on.  Next he found some new stringy saplings and quickly worked thin strips from their supple bark, he paused to work the two elements into crude protection for his feet.  He tied some of the spare sapling strips round his waist and while running made a simple bark bag to carry his finds in.  A little further on he took a brief minute to bend a sapling low and with sticks secure it ready to spring at the first unwary hunter to follow him, where he found more saplings he made more traps.  The field skills that old Professor Highwood had taught at the Assassins Guild serving the ex-student well.  However Vetinari had not eaten since his capture so his body was calling on reserves it did not have.  Eventually he saw some brambles with a few sparse berries, out of necessity he stopped to pick the few that had ripened, eating as many as he dared before his instincts screamed at him to keep moving – Werewolves could move faster than a man.

He found himself a stick, a little long for a walking stick but it would do.  And if he could work something into a strong enough bow string it would double for a weapon.  Normal arrows would not kill a Werewolf, but an arrow through a major joint might slow one down a little.  Next he spotted a hole made by the roots of a fallen tree.  Professor Highwood's words came back to him over the years.  '_Now young Vetinari, what is the purpose of a non-lethal trap?_'  '_To scare, unnerve and confuse s_ir.'  He heard his own youthful voice in reply.  '_And what is the best trap?'_  Young Havelock had learnt his lessons well.  _'A hole in the ground sir, normal people never pay enough attention where they put their feet and assume if the ground looks solid, that it is solid_.'  The Professor had nodded his approval back then, and would be nodding now if he could see the mature Vetinari cover over the hole with thin branches and camouflage their fragility with leaves.

Finally he reached a river near the bottom of the valley and began jogging along beside it.  Still the sun had not come out and despite his exertions he was feeling the chill – not a good sign.  He was slowing down, despite what his mind wanted to do; his weary body had other ideas.  Rather than sunshine it looked like rain, he would not be going out in a blaze of glory, more like a puddle of mud – not how he had envisaged his end.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\


	2. The Fox Bites Back

_Mr Terry Pratchett, the great and devious creator of the Discworld owns everything about it – no copyright infringement intended._

Chapter 2:  The Fox Bites Back 

Angua and Carrot dismounted and handed their horses' reins to Vimes.  Carrot followed Angua behind some trees, a few moments later he came back wrapping Angua's clothes into a bundle, Vimes heard a four footed Angua run off into the forest.

            "Don't worry Commander, she'll find their scent."  Carrot said tying the clothes behind her saddle then remounting his own tired horse.

Vimes was incapable of 'not worrying'.  Too long in the saddle had not improved his temper.  "It's not going to be easy getting through these trees on horseback at any speed."

            "We'll have to keep up as best we can Sir."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Sybil Ramkin was ushered into the bedroom of the Princess of Avor and was shocked at how deathly pale the young woman was.  The doctors had advised her gravely to stay only a few moments and now she could see why.  Silana's eyes flickered open when she held her pale hand.

            "Sybil…" The whisper seemed to take more than breath from the girl's stricken body. "…thank you for coming."  

            "Hush, don't talk, let me do the talking."  The Princess' silence was her answer.  "I've sent Sam off to find Havelock, I am sure they will both be fine."

            "Margolotta sent word," Silana whispered with obvious effort.  "Sam has reached the border."  

Sybil wasn't sure about receiving news via a vampire, but Margolotta had helped Sam in her own devious way during their last visit.  That they had reached the border warmed Sybil's heart, but she knew that from now on the conflict would really start.  She felt guilty letting the girl speak.  "Hush."  "The baby is lovely, she was awake when I arrived and I held her.  She's got Havelock's eyes."  Silana managed a smile in reply, but it was obvious the effort of communicating was challenging her strength.  "I'm just going to sit over by the fire and read, dear.  You pretend I'm not here and go to sleep.  I'll be right there watching over you if you need anything."  Sybil had tried to hide her shock at how terrible the girl looked, '_Silana should never have given her strength to her father, not at a time like this_.' Something in Sybil, maybe she had picked up some of Sam's copper's instincts, said 'D_on't leave her alone,_ _she is so vulnerable,_ _don't leave her to the servants' care' _so she found herself a chair near the fire and picked a book to read by its dim light.  She soon heard Silana's breathing change to that of sleep.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

The Werewolves ran in a wide pack following the scent of the prey.  Howling strategies and jeers back and forth, joyous in the excitement of the chase.  Suddenly four sturdy saplings sprang sharply in the front group's snouts, knocking them into their companions.  They went from joy to a disorganised yelping melee as they tried to take in the situation – the fox had just bitten back.

The Baron organised them into running on again.  All went well until suddenly the same trap was sprung again, and a different group of Werewolves had sore noses and hurt pride.   "The damn prey has dared to fight back!  Come brothers, his blood shall be ours, we'll taste his defeat."  The Baron raised his voice to try and rouse their pursuit, but they all moved a lot more carefully from then on.  And still they fell into holes in the ground Vetinari had covered over.  The traps became fewer – the Patrician had only dared spare so much time on them – but the traps had had the desired psychological effect – the Werewolves were made wary and their pursuit was slowed.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

The wind came up and it suddenly started to rain.  Not the soft rain when you might turn up your collar and walk a little faster to your destination, not really minding getting a little wet kind of rain.  No, this was the buckets upturned on your head kind of rain that whips your hair into your eyes and debris, stripped from the surrounding trees, driven by the rain start scrapping across your vulnerable skin.  Rain is probably not the right word for it, clouds vomiting nature's revenge is probably a better term – and Vetinari was stuck naked, exhausted and alone in the middle of it.

He stumbled on, trying to shield his eyes enough to see where he was putting his feet, while trying to protect his bare body from the strafing effect of loosened pine needles as they came spearing down carried by the unforgiving downpour.  Thick clouds completely obscured the sun making a false twighlight, under the trees it was even darker.  Between the rain in his eyes and wind driven debris it was not a surprise that he tripped and fell, he lost his walking stick.  While he was getting up the animal track he had been following suddenly developed into a runaway for the sudden flood of rainwater, he lost his footing completely, began sliding as part of the cascade down the hill.  Grabbing at handholds, trying to use his assassin trained muscles to stop his fall – nothing stayed in reach long enough – he seemed to slide and fall for an age – sharp things cutting into him until finally total immersion – the green silence of deep water.

Even in near panic he held his breath, kicking out to get to the surface – to the wet, rain filled, and life-giving air.  He looked up and around him through the rain, blinking the water out of his eyes.  He was in a hole in the ground, a hole that was half filled with water and 15 feet deep, a hole with sheer sides and a few tree roots as hand holds.  

Vetinari chose the side with the most roots and away from the cascading water and swam towards it.  He grabbed onto a sturdy root and gave himself a minute to recover his breath and his strength.  Gods he was cold.  He brushed his hair out of his eyes and the still cascading rain brushed it back.  He concentrated his resources and took a firm grip of the next tree root up – it was wet and slippery with mud so he had to use every ounce of strength in his hands to support his weight – he felt side shoots digging into his palms and fingers and acknowledged that to climb out he was going to loose some skin.  He considered for a moment waiting until the water rose to make it less of a climb but knew if he took that luxury he would be greeted by Werewolves once he had made that delayed ascent – and he wasn't going to make it that easy for them.

He began to climb, using handholds and foot holds, ramming his toes into the crumbling wet mud, getting enough purchase to move his hand higher, his muscles shivering with the strain.  He had been starved for days, tortured and beaten, he was asking his body to do things that, even with his iron will, were nearly impossible, but he refused to accept that this hole in the ground would be his grave – he struggled on.

Vetinari was about a foot below the rim of the hole and deciding how best to climb out when disaster struck.

Pain.  Blackness, water, a terrible pain across his back.  Sinking… sinking… sinking.  Blackness… sinking.

Gritting his teeth he fought his way back to the surface again on empty lungs with arms and legs that did not want to move, he felt like crying with the pain from his back – who would notice a few salt tears in such a downpour?  He made it to the wall and hung on, '_Just hang on, just breath and hold on, just stay alive a little while longer, just get through the pain, just think.  Just hold on.'_

He cursed out loud.  He let out the fear and anger that had been building up since he was distracted enough to grip his carriage door handle and self-administer the drug that had made him helpless and made his capture possible.

Fear because he feared leaving so much undone, he had finally seen a bright future for Ankh-Morpork and, in his marriage, for himself - and to lose all that now?  It was unthinkable.

And anger at himself for being captured so easily, for forgetting all his assassin's training in that one vulnerable moment.  What was the point of having an extensive spy network, to spend so much of his time monitoring it, only to be captured in his own carriage commuting to see his wife – if he couldn't even ensure his own safety under those circumstances, then just how incompetent had he become?  Yes, he had emotional commitments now, in the shape of a wife and soon to be child, but he should have factored that change in circumstances into the equation and better applied his resources.  Instead Silk had endangered his life and threatened Silana.  Vetinari's anger with himself was incandescent.  And it was going to bloody well burn long enough and bright enough to give him the adrenaline to get him out of this damned hole.

He assessed the situation, looking behind him he saw what had hit him, a thick branch had followed him into the hole and struck him across the back.  He tried not to think of the damage to his back – he could still move, that was the only important thing.  '_Right, can the new element in the situation be used as a tool to get out of this?  Damn right it can.  Well get on with it then.'_

Vetinari swam over painfully and pulled the branch to the narrowest part of the hole.  Taking deep breaths he filled his lungs and going under heaved the branch up and kicking forward managed to lodge it into both sides of the hole.  He took a moment to catch his breath again then began to climb, using the branch as a handhold then foothold, ignoring the protests from his newly injured back.

The rain eased a little so he had a little more visibility.  Finally he rolled onto rain soaked 'dry land' and took the luxury of minutes he didn't have to recover a little, but while he had adrenaline he'd better make the most of it – he started off down the hill again.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Blood.  Blood.  Blood.  The chant pounded between the Werewolves as their lust for death grew stronger.  That the foe had the effrontery to lay traps for them was unthinkable.  That the prey had a brain and was capable of rational thought when it should have been shrieking in terror was beyond imagination.  What was this creature that they hunted – just a human, just flesh; easily rendered – just bone; easily broken – just a spirit which seemed to burn more brightly in its ingenuity and savage will to survive that the other humans who had been sport for the hunt.  If Vetinari was a new breed of human then he demanded to be culled, and if he was one of the old spirits, the ones who were worthy of the hunt in their grandfather's grandfathers' day, then the Baron was glad he was alive today to see it.  But his poor nose still smarted from the blow of that sapling and his lust for blood was being quelled by his trepidation of what would come next.  Hunting Vetinari was not as much fun as it should be.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Suddenly Vetinari was looking at leaves and mud and twigs when he was sure he should be looking at tree trunks and sky.  For a few moments his exhausted brain could not comprehend what had happened.  Then he put the jigsaw puzzle of his perceptions together and realised he was down on his hands and knees, but he didn't remember getting there.  He got up and stumbled on.

It happened again.  Suddenly he was looking at the forest floor – with no idea how or why – he realised he must have blacked out in some way.  This time there was a lot of pain from his right knee, he sat back on his haunches and found he had grazed it quite badly.

What to do?  If he carried on falling like this he was bound to get more injuries, but if he paused here, and the ground looked so inviting, there was no guarantee his strength would return and once he stopped it would be so hard to get started again.  He took several deep breaths and stumbled to his feet, realised how badly he was shaking from fatigue.  He leant on trees and moved as best he could, at least the rain had stopped and the sun was making a little headway at peaking through the clouds.

Mud, leaves, this time a worm shared his sudden change in perspective.  He decided to give himself a long minute to gird his resources.  Breath deep, breath deep, block the pain, breath deep.  He felt suddenly very alone, this was not the place he wanted to die, he concentrated on his scarred shoulder and reached out his mind to Silana… '_Silana…Silana.'_  Nothing.  '_Silana?_'  Nothing.  There should have been something there, even a slight hint of a presence, but this time nothing.  Gods, he hoped she was safe in Avor.

Respite over, he forced himself to his feet and stumbled on.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Rain.  The Werewolves lost their footing along with the quarry's scent.  Torrential rain.  Rain that stopped the fun of the Great Game.  Rain so pounding it stuck their coats heavy to their backs.  The kind of rain it was best to hide under a tree from and once it stopped, spring back into the chase.  The prey would be hiding from the downpour too – if it had any sense – they'd not lose much ground to it in this rain.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Eventually Vetinari came into a clearing, grass soft on his battered feet, sun softly warming his chilled skin, and blessing of all blessings – a berry bush, that in the sun had lots of fully ripened fruit.  Vetinari picked and ate the fruit hungrily, soon his fingers were stained purple with their juices.  He knew he was eating too many too fast for his poor starved stomach but he needed the fruit sugars so badly to sustain his flight that he took the risk.  He gave the food a few minutes to get into his system then as the shaking in his hands stilled he re-used the bark pouch and supple bindings to fashion some protection for his feet.  He picked more handfuls of fruit and eating it while he walked, began his trek again.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

The Baroness was thinking:  'Skinny man, I starved him, how could he have gone so far so fast?  Bony man, not much flesh for them all to share – how could he make traps and be so far ahead?  Insolent man, how dare he pit his will against that of the Überwald clan?'  For a doomed man Vetinari was putting doubt into the secret places of Serafine's mind.  'He is prey, he will be killed.'  But his blue starring eyes still haunted her – alone, chained in his cell with her scraping her claws through his skin – he had still scared her.  His kind demanded death from her kind, there could be only one kind of Werewolf in Überwald.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vetinari climbed down the riverbank past rapids and found a large chunk of tree trunk washed against the shore; with difficulty he pushed it out into the water and holding on began floating with it downstream.  He was not naïve enough to believe the water would put the Werewolves off his scent but his body desperately needed rest and he needed time to think – at least the river was moving fairly swiftly.  Unfortunately it was also quite cold and he knew he would not be able to stay in it long.  It began to rain again.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Angua sniffed the air.  A recent history of wildlife and eddies of wind softened by trees presented itself before her.  She knew she was in the valley traditionally used for the Great Game (she had even taken part in the Game before she had grown to know better – the excuse of 'Tradition' for senseless murder for sport was one reason why she had run away from home).  She had a vague scent of Werewolf far off to her left, that would be the hunting party, but no scent of Vetinari – the breeze was in the wrong direct – well if the hunters were coming from her left she'd go down further into the valley – to find what they hunted.  It began to rain again.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vetinari was roused by his log bumping into a rock, he noted that the river was widening, his progress slowing – could he be at Saxom lake already?  Damn, the cold and fatigue must have made him doze – too dangerous, his grip could have slipped or hypothermia taken him or more rapids – he berated himself but had to admit that he was nearing the end of his strength – he had hoped to give them a better run for their '400 Crowns' than this.  Too cold to shiver he forced his limbs to move, stumbling out on slippery rocks he realised he had lost one of his bark 'sandals' damn!  He found more flint stones and broke them to use as implements and weapons, he carried them as best he could.

He began to jog, every muscle protesting, he was not as young as he used to be.  And it would have to be uphill to get away from the too obvious river route, plus the area around the lake was clear of trees, he would be too visible, the only blessing was the sun finally showed itself, its warm rays drying the water from his goose fleshed skin – he began to feel a little bit alive.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Sam Vimes was swearing, trying to ride a big horse through forest with low branches was not a good idea, despite how low he ducked, for the sixth time he received a face full of leaves and twigs – it was only luck that he hadn't got a bigger branch.  And the horse wasn't happy about it either – it was only by good horsemanship that he was keeping the nag going in the direction he wanted.

Carrot was fairing no better and was sporting a black eye and a cut across his cheek – the price of being so tall.  "That's it, we're dismounting – we can lead the horses."  Vimes ordered.  "We've been lucky so far but the next branch that's got a name on it could take an eye out.  The only place I'm getting new scars is in Ankh-Morpork."

            "Right you are Commander."  Carrot agreed half reluctantly – torn between the need to rush and the need to be in one piece enough to fire a cross bow when they got there.  They had agreed with Angua that if they lost her they would continue riding down to the valley floor and then follow the river downstream – as that would be the logical route for Vetinari to follow if he was being pursued, and meet up with Angua when they could.  They had admitted they had lost Angua some time ago, so they were heading for the valley bottom.  They began tramping off at as fast a pace as they could set.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vetinari's instinct for danger suddenly told him to stand still and listen.  He strained with his ears trying to hear past the loud beating of his heart… the birds were strangely silent… wind through the trees… the river… then he heard it; the soft footfalls of a four-legged predator.  He located where the hunter was coming from, it seemed to be at right angles to where he had expected the Werewolves to appear.  He sped off at a tangent to his pursuer, knowing that he would now unfortunately end up back at the river – where the creatures that sought him would expect him to be – damn!

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Angua had to restrain herself from howling in triumph – finally she scented Vetinari – she began to run.  

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Close, too close.  Vetinari spotted a likely tree – it would only buy him minutes – but anything that delayed the inevitable – but when he tried to climb it he realised his worn out muscles just would not let him.  Instead he slid down the bank into the shallows of the river, taking a firm stand he picked up stones, found the energy from somewhere to break them and stood ready to fight back with the few resources he had.  His heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest, from more than just his exertions – he realised this was it.  He gave himself a moment, '_Goodbye Silana,'_ and was ready when the first Werewolf came through the trees, his first stone caught it on the shoulder, he was pleased to see blood.  The creature scuttled behind a tree for cover, a moment later Vetinari was shocked to see a beautiful naked blond haired woman walk out from behind the tree

"Angua!"

            "Sir." 

            For a second they stood, captured by the moment – some part of their minds acknowledging that they were both naked, not bad, and hell they were in danger.  "Are you alone?"  Vetinari asked.

            "Carrot and Commander Vimes are…"  She paused, rubbing her cut shoulder, her senses still Werewolf sensitive.  "…a little way behind me, we'd better get moving."  Whatever else they may have said was cut short by the howling of definitely unfriendly Werewolves.  The pack had finally caught up with him.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Carrot paused to listen.  "Is that howling I can hear Sir?"

Vimes stopped to listen and, "Damn!  Lets move."  He drew his crossbow and started to run – rather bravely in the direction of what, from the sound of it, was a large pack of Werewolves.

            "Two men against that many Werewolves, even with silver weapons Sir, not good odds."  Carrot felt it his duty to point out to his commanding officer the folly of what they were doing.

            "But if they are still chasing Vetinari that means he's till alive, we will be 2 men and an assassin when we find him – and I've brought some daggers for the Patrician – that will even up the odds a bit."  He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as he panted his way down the hill, struggling to control the horse he was leading.   Carrot was using the bridles of his two horses to keep himself stable as he slid and ran down the leaf-mulched hill.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

It soon became apparent to Angua that despite his will to run, Vetinari's physical exhaustion soon had him panting and leaning against a tree, blue eyes blazing in anger at the world and in defiance of his own mortality.  She looked him up and down, many bruises, long cuts that she recognised as the work of wolf claws – so they had misused him before pursuing him.  And his feet, damaged from too much running and too many sharp stones.  They needed to move, could she carry him?  He was slim and in her werewolf form she was extremely strong.

Balancing his body along her wolf back, to hang on he tangled his hands into the thick fur at Angua's neck, all he could do with his legs was keep them off the ground, far from ideal but at least they were moving, slowly, but every footfall was another second of survival.  They moved off along the river's edge.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Vimes did not know at what point he realised they were out of control but suddenly he was not running but scrabbling and his horse was panicking down the increased slope – Carrot managed to stop himself against a tree but his two horses were continuing down.  Vimes came out in the open rolling in leaves and mud just far enough away from killing horses hooves, a wolf suddenly reared up as he fell in front of it.  In a microsecond he thought, '_That's it I'm dead.'_ then a human body landed almost on top of him.  He had his knife out and was backed against a rock before he realised it was the Patrician who was scrabbling to his knees with a stone blade in his hand.  Vimes took in the wild hair, wilder eyes and naked mud covered body and decided to remain very, very still until the assassin took in that the equally mud covered person before him was a "friend".  

"Ah, Vimes, so good of you to come."  Damn the man's reserve – Vimes' had expected, after their long mad chase to rescue him, 'something', some emotion.  Well to be honest he had expected exactly the reaction Vetinari gave, but it would have been nice to be surprised.

            "Sir."  He nodded, equalling the Patrician's detachment.  He stood up out of his crouch.  He looked to where Carrot was chasing after their spooked horses, fortunately the beasts had had a little sense and were running away from the howl of Werewolves – the presence of Angua hadn't helped their panic.  He realised Angua was growling and taking a few steps towards Carrot then coming back.  The howls were getting closer.  "Time to move."  He held out his hand to help the Patrician to his feet and felt the chill of the man's skin and the shiver of his bones.  He looked more closely at him, and realised what a state he was in.  Without ceremony he pulled the taller man over his shoulder, carrying him, and began an awkward walk/jog towards Carrot who had managed to catch Angua's horse and was using it to round up the others.  By the time they caught up all three horses' reins were in Carrot's hands.  Vimes put Vetinari back on his feet, the Patrician managed to stay upright.  "Thank you."  

Vimes nodded acknowledgment while scrabbling in his horses' pack – he had been a participant in The Great Game before so had brought extra clothing, he passed Vetinari trousers and a thick jacket, while the Patrician scrambled into the trousers, Angua whined worriedly – she knew how little time they had  - Vetinari swung himself up in the saddle and moved the horse forward, guiding it with his knees, while pulling the jacket on over his arms – he'd button it later – he nudged the animal into a canter and hung on with the last of his strength.  Vimes found what he was looking for and mounting on his own horse, kicked the animal into action.  Getting level with Vetinari he passed him a leather rolled bundle.  Vetinari took it and hefted it – weapons - still tired beyond words at least he felt he had a chance now to fight, and not just be flesh prey to the Baron and Baroness.

Angua speeding ahead of them demonstrated just why she had been so worried; so a Werewolf could out-run a horse; problematic.  Vetinari decided to just concentrate on staying on his galloping horse – none of his muscles seemed to have any strength left, his legs shuddered at the effort to remain in the saddle, he shoved the weapons roll into the waistband of his trousers, then leant forward and gripped the saddle with his free hand and guided the horse with the reins and his feet, inspired the animal to go faster.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\


	3. Silver and Silk

Wolves at the Door

_Mr Terry Pratchett, the great and devious creator of the Discworld owns everything about it – no copyright infringement intended._

**Author's Note 3**:  I would like to take this opportunity to thank all my reviewers for their kind words and feedback for this story – you give me that warm cuddly feeling that makes me want to go on writing.  And your feedback when I have not explained something properly is much appreciated – Unseen Watcher, please keep watching.  Merrymoll – sorry about the near coffee spraying incident.

A very special thanks goes to Mercator whose ideas to improve the pace and content of the story have been invaluable.  Mercator, thank you for your mentoring – if the werewolves seem more evil, and Vetinari falls in a hole – it is because of you.

**Chapter 3:  Silver and Silk**

Angua found a ford and insisted they cross it – while she would stay on the other side of the river her scent keeping the Werewolves on the wrong side.  Carrot could see why the far side of the river would be preferable, it eventually opened out into flat grassland and the horses would have a better chance than in the confines of the small flat area on their present bank, still it was hard waving Angua on alone.  With great care the reduced party walked the horses across, letting the animals find their own footing.  Once on the other side they kicked them back into a gallop and though a little less winded both horses and riders were running out of energy.

Inevitably the braying pack caught up with them.  Angua swiftly jumped into the now fast moving river and swam across.  Angua's ploy had worked, as the Werewolves had not crossed at the ford the two warring parties now stood facing each other, weapons and teeth bared, with the river as a natural barrier, the Werewolves not daring to dive in with so much naked silver trained on them.

Vimes climbed down from his horse, holding the reins between his teeth he cocked his crossbow, making sure the milling Werewolves could see the glint of silver as he slung the quiver of bolts at his belt.  He heard Carrot and Vetinari climb down behind him and the clink of metal.

"Sir."  Carrot passed Vetinari a spare crossbow.  Angua growled – she did not like being this close to silver but she would stand and fight at their side.

Vimes and Vetinari, despite being odd battle companions, stood shoulder to shoulder once again.  Carrot fought the urge to stand in front of Angua to protect her - his encounter with her brother had proved all to obviously that his girlfriend would fair better than he against a Werewolf – the ache of his once broken arm was a tangible reminder.

Carrot asked, "Do we shoot to kill sir?"  He realised that his Commander was not listening; he looked to where Vimes looked and his heart dropped.  His sudden silence drew Angua's attention.

            "Grrrr."  She growled in despair.  Coming down the valley on their flank were at least 50 Werewolves.  The creatures were moving fast, it would not be long before their foe was of a completely overwhelming strength.

Vimes was lost, running out of options; they'd have to fight, they had silver they could take some of the bastards with them but he knew not enough of the Werewolves to make a difference – they would have only a few minutes to take out the Baroness and her troop before the new bunch arrived.  He turned to Vetinari expecting confirmation of his last ditch thoughts.  He was shocked to see the Patrician with a genuine smile on his face, rather than ask he looked back to see if he could see what the assassin saw.  Even the Werewolves noted the human's distraction and turned to look.  A howl went up.

            "Angua?"  Vimes asked.

Angua turned back to human form to answer him.  "They are not Werewolves but wolves Commander."  For modesty's sake she stood behind Carrot.  

            "Will they stand a chance against this many Werewolves?"

            "No, but my mother is offended by the effrontery of so many wolves rising against her – she has decided to face them first and then come after us – the wolves are giving us time."  

The lead Werewolf, Vimes' thought it looked like the Baron, started off to face the incoming wolves, leaving the Baroness and three Werewolves to continue harassing them.  "Vetinari, you are smiling, what do you know about this?"

            "Look in the sky Commander."  The Patrician said obliquely.  Vimes looked, at first he didn't see anything, then he saw a bird, must have been a large one, and lots of blue sky and cloud – still nothing useful.

            "What am I supposed to see?"

            "Avor has come to rescue us."

Then Vimes remembered, Silana's father – one of his shapes was that of an eagle – and he always had that pack of wolves lolling at his feet.  "But they will all be killed."

            "Watch."

Two of Serafine's party moved off down and up river and jumping in the water swam across; climbing onto the bank they stayed at a cautious distance but cutting off those escape routes.  Vimes raised his crossbow and was pleased to see the nearest one move further back.

Vimes saw the two parties, the Baron's and the wolves meet – fur flew in a fury.  The ferocity of the conflict was terrifying, howls of pain and terror emitted from the two packs – Vimes was amazed to see the Werewolf pack break off their attack and run back towards them leaving dead and injured behind.  "What?"  Angua said shocked.  Carrot was just very glad they had the river between them – the speed at which the Werewolves were moving was astonishing.  

The Baroness howled and started to run ahead of her husband.  The two Werewolves who had crossed the river to harass them took off, giving them and their weapons a wide berth.

            "What just happened Angua?"  Carrot asked.

            "My father was crying that the wolves had silver – but how can that…"

The wily old devil Vimes thought, "The Wolves of Avor – the King must have armed them with silver."  No wonder he and Vetinari get on so well, they are both devious bastards.  

The wolves came level with them and Angua backed further behind Carrot.  "I can smell the silver."  Angua whispered to him, Carrot planted himself to completely hide the girl and took her hand in his big reassuring grip.  Realising how cold and vulnerable she must be feeling he took off his coat and helped Angua put it on.  

Vimes saw flashes of white metal at the paws and mouths of the pursuing wolves; intent on their prey the pack sped past.  

"Greetings my son."  The old King stood behind them, looking more robust than Vimes had ever seen him.  The King stepped forward and took Vetinari's forearm in a soldier's grip and beaming a broad grin at him pulled him into what Vimes concluded, for the ever reserved Patrician, was an uncomfortably affectionate hug – plus quite painful with his present injuries.  "Some nasty playmates you have there."  The King said breaking the hug; Vetinari gave his father-in-law a long-suffering look.

            "Thank you for coming to our aid Conari, how fairs Silana?"  He tried to hide the weariness from his voice but Vimes saw him lean against his horse – the strength given by adrenaline fading.

            "You have a daughter, but it has been hard on Silana – and she gave me part of her strength to journey here.  I must return to her as soon as you are out of danger."  

Vetinari took the King aside and said quietly.  "My abductor, Lord Worik Silk, accused General Paggett of being involved in the conspiracy and of being a danger to Silana.  Also the Baroness said he was as good as being her General."  

The old man looked shocked.  "I will make haste to question Audice, though I have seen nothing but love for my daughter in his heart."

            "That may be the problem Conari."  The King nodded his understanding and painting a smile back on his face turned back to Vetinari's companions.

He nodded in acknowledgement to the rest of the party and focused on the girl again cowering behind Carrot.  "I am sorry for your discomfort Lady Angua but my wolves know to protect you also – do not fear them or their silver."  Angua nodded only slowly coming out from the protection of Carrot.  

"Havelock you have the right to demand the life of the Baron and Baroness for their actions against you, but by coming here I have entered Avor into a conflict with one of her neighbours – from a diplomatic point of view I would advise we stop short of destroying them."  He turned back to Angua.  "And what say you Lady, they are your parents and your people, are they redeemable?"

            "My people are in Ankh-Morpork now Sire, my parents have yet to learn to be humble, perhaps now is the time to teach them that humans are not to be toyed with."

The King grunted and turned back to Vetinari, the question still in his dark eyes.  Vetinari answered simply.  "We can be merciful in our triumph."  

The slight smile gave a hidden message to the King, who chuckled and winked, saying quietly.  "Ah, revenge can always come later."  

The old man put his head back and howled long and loud, the howls in reply came from a distance – the wolves had chased the Werewolves a long way away.  "Once my friends return they will escort the Prince of Avor and guard you all.  Margolotta will give you sanctuary and a coach to bring you safe home – the wolves will stay with you to ensure no further harm."

            "My thanks."  Vetinari said, another message passing through his look.

            "I will give my daughter and your daughter your thoughts."  The King said discreetly.  "Duke, Captain…"  He gave a slight bow as if to equals.  Then he took a step forward and took Angua's hand in his.  "…Lady, we may not meet again, but be at peace, children are not responsible for the actions of their parents – someday you will make a great ruler in Überwald."

            "That is not my intention Sire."

            "But perhaps your fate."  Conari grinned charmingly and bent to kiss her hand.  He turned to Carrot.  "Hurry up and marry the girl Ironfoundersson… or I will."  He winked at Angua and suddenly the air in front of her was empty – the King had returned to his own lands.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Silana was woken by the slamming of her bedroom door.  She opened her eyes to see Audice holding her baby.  She started to smile until she saw the look on his face.  She realised he had locked the door behind him.  She struggled to sit up in bed.  Sybil rose from her chair by the fire trying to take in the sudden change in the General.

"I am freeing you from your Choosing of Vetinari, then you can marry me.  Silana – we have always been destined for each other."  Audice's maddened eyes blazed.  "He raped you – and somehow you thought you had to be loyal to him for the sake of the child…I will save you from him."  He said the words as if his own mad logic would make sense of the situation in the world he could not accept.

            "Listen to me!"  So weak and so terrified for the fragile life of her child, Silana's use of the voice of command came at a cost and was not enough to break through the General's madness.  By pure force of will she freed her legs from the bed covers and got to her feet.

            "He took your innocence and made this abomination on you – it cannot live."  He held the child at arms length, too near the fire.  The baby gave a little whimper.

            "She is just an innocent baby girl man, for the gods' sake give her to me."  Sybil ordered.  Paggett ignored her.

Silana realised Audice was beyond the truth – his ego could never allow him to understand how she could love Havelock instead of him.  If she could not use the truth she would try using his loyalty.  "Calm Audice – cousin. The child of Vetinari will be an asset to Avor, and Ankh-Morpork is a great ally – do not jeopardise the alliances I have forged – for the sake of Avor, Audice, you must back away from your emotions."  Leaning on the furniture she managed a few steps towards him.  

            "I am the most loyal son of Avor Silana, but you should have been mine.  I served Avor all the years of my life, your father should have given you to me, not let you Choose that man that seduced you."  If only he knew that it had been she who had seduced Havelock.

Sybil was worried at the hint of foam at Lord Paggett's lips.  She could see what Silana was trying to do – play on the General's loyalty to Avor, but his greater weakness was his sanity and obsession with the Princess – Sybil prayed that Silana would not blast out that she loved Vetinari because that would certainly push Audice, and with him the baby, over the edge of all reason.

            "We are grateful for your service cousin, your strong right arm was ever a comfort to us…."

            "Even as a child you loved me – do you not remember that kiss in the orchard – you were ten years old – even then you knew."

Both women's hearts went cold, the knowledge that an action as a child playing could come back and haunt you over a decade later was terrifying.  Silana moved subtly a little closer to the fire.  "No matter my feelings then Audice, my country needs a man like Vetinari – Cousin we must do what is right for Avor."

            "You should be mine!"  Audice wailed.  Sybil caught Silana's eye, the Princess gave a slight nod.  From the fireside rack Sybil grabbed a metal poker and brought it hard across the back of Audice's knees – felling him like a tree – Silana sprang forward and grabbed the baby out of his loosened grip and twisted to land with the baby on top of her – the baby waited until then to begin to cry.  With Silana and the child out of the way Sybil brought the second blow down on Audice's skull.

            "Thank you Lady Sybil, thank you."  Silana breathed, examining the baby, tears close to the surface.  "She is unhurt."  Too weak to rise from where she had landed, she held the crying baby to her.

Sybil was shaking with the shock of the moment but she forced herself to go to the door.  "Guards."  She called – soon Lady Vimes heard running feet.  She went to help Silana to a chair, the girl could barely move – she had used what little energy she had to rescue her child.  Sybil kept the poker still at the ready just in case the madman arose.

            "Your Highness?"  The soldier was shocked to see his military commander lying on the floor of the Princess' bedroom and both women looking so pale – the loud cries of the baby adding to the confusion.

            Silana straightened up and looked the man in the eye.  "The deepest dungeon, where the water drips and the lichen grows, take the General there, search him, take anything metal and anything he could harm himself with, leave him his boots – lock him in that dungeon and then bring to me all the keys to it."  She said with icy calculation.

            "Lady, what has happened here?"  The man asked.

            "There will be an announcement…later.  For now do as I command."  Her voice would not allow further question.

Once Audice had been carried out Sybil asked the pale girl.  "What are you going to do with him?"

Silana looked up, a fire of fury giving false energy to her exhausted eyes.  "I will forget him, the world will forget him, but he will remember for the rest of his miserable starving existence how wrong he was to betray the throne of Avor."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

They followed a stream up out of the valley in the direction of Margolotta's castle.  It had been a hard ride on both horses and riders but they had not wanted to follow the valley further as it was leading them in the wrong direction.  Angua had remained in Werewolf form so Vetinari road her horse and she loped along with their wolf escort.  The wolves roamed out in front and behind and reported no sight or smell of the Baroness or her party.  Vimes didn't let it lull him into a false sense of security and trekked on until late afternoon when Vimes, seeing everyone's weariness called a halt for food and rest.  Some of the wolf pack went off to hunt.

Angua returned to human form and reclaimed her clothes.  She refused to let Vimes cook – she'd tasted his burnt offerings before, so Vimes attended to the horses.

Despite his fatigue Vetinari could not bear to be unclean any longer so he limped back down the hill, escorted by two she-wolves, to a little pool they had passed – out of sight of their camp.  Fastidious, he desperately wanted to wash the mud off that still coated him under his borrowed clothes.  Vimes on the other hand was like a boy scout revelling in his holiday from hygiene and seemed to be mischievously enjoying his muddy state – wait till Sybil got hold of him.

Fortunately the sun was now shining strongly so it warmed Vetinari's aching bones as he stripped off, turning his clothes inside out he tried shaking off some of the mud that had dried to the cloth.  He laid the jacket and trousers on a rock to bake in the sun, hoping the drying effect would let him brush off the rest.  Then gingerly, every muscle aching with his sore feet protesting, he climbed into the cold pool and with his hands wearily liberated the mud that coated his skin and hair.  He hoped getting clean would give him some energy – he was moving on will power alone – and a few biscuits he had managed to eat as they rode.  His body had been deprived of real sustenance for so long that even a small effort made his hands and limbs shake with fatigue.  

Vetinari heard Carrot's voice when he came up from ducking his hair.  "Don't mind me your Lordship – just thought I'd keep you company… just in case."  

Vetinari realised what a wreck he must look if Carrot was afraid to leave him alone to bathe.  Actually, as he felt like collapsing, it was probably a good idea to have the young Watchman as backup.  "Thank you Mr Ironfoundersson."

Carrot found himself a seat on a rock and looked down stream, giving Vetinari a measure of privacy.  "I've got a clean shirt in my kit Sir, it'll be warm and a spare pair of trousers, the length will be better than those of Mr Vimes though you'll have to tighten the belt in."

            "Thank you, that would be most welcome."  Vetinari said distractedly as he scrubbed away at the mud, which wasn't stubborn – once it got wet it dissolved away with some help, it was just so damned persistent and seemed to have found its way into every nook and cranny imaginable.  He made himself a mental note never to fall into mud naked again.

            "Sir, can I ask you something?"

            "You may ask but I do not guarantee to answer."  Vetinari replied, concentrating for the first time on Carrot – he looked troubled.

            "How did you ask the Princess to marry you sir?"

            "She asked me – via a large mystical eagle."  Carrot gave him a 'You know what I meant.' look, so the Patrician elucidated.  "Sometimes women just decide and we men have to comply."  He said raising an ironic eyebrow.

Carrot couldn't imagine Vetinari 'just complying' with anyone.  "But sir, there must have been a moment when you said how much you respected her and that you loved her."  Vetinari gave the younger man a 'don't go there' look.  Carrot changed tactics.  "Well, I want to tell Angua all these things, but, well, some days she just seems to resent me so much."

            "I would suggest that the wild animal, Werewolf, part of her feels trapped by her affection for you."

            "But she keeps coming back for more."

            "A dog will take a beating from its master and still sit at his feet."  Vetinari was not used to being treated as a father figure but decided he would accept the role as long as he did not have to explain the birds and the bees to the young Watchman.  He could, his medical training would allow him to dispense the information in great detail, however, the thought of the speech getting back to Vimes made his teeth go on edge.

            "So how should I ask her?"

            "From your heart and soul Carrot, she'll recognise your sincerity."

            "But if she says no?"

            "Then at least you will have your answer."  

Carrot looked glum, he wanted some way to ask without losing Angua – but if the smartest man in Ankh couldn't tell him.  "I'll go and get those clothes for you sir."  Carrot walked back to their camp – still lost in his own indecision.  

Vetinari decided he still had mud in his ear and ducked his head under again.  Finally he climbed wearily out and sat on a rock to dry off in the afternoon sun.  'Father-figure?'  Gods, he was going to be a father, in reality probably already was – though his mind could not accept the concept that Silana's enlarged abdomen would have gone and a small human, half her and half him, would be waiting in Avor to meet his or her father.  His life had changed so much since he had met the Princess, and now all those changes were going to be doubled – he was going to be a father.  He wondered how it was done – his own father had died when Vetinari was still quite young, and the man had been so busy involved in politics, as a Lord of Ankh performing his civic duty, that Vetinari Senior had spent little time at home.  Vetinari had determined to do better.  Since discovering Silana's pregnancy he had been surreptitiously watching the people around him who were parents – trying to assess how parenting was best done.  He had taken a special interest in the Vimes household but decided that the Commander worked too long hours to be a good example – however, he and little Sam did seem to manage a good relationship despite this – and Sybil exuded enough sensible, down to disc love for the boy for both of them.  Vetinari had begun to realise parenthood was less about the brain and more about one's heart – an organ Silana had only recently reminded him that he owned.

When Carrot came back Vetinari was sitting on a rock in the sun to dry.  "I brought the first aid kit and some thick socks too…. Oh!"  

At Carrot's indrawn breath, Vetinari turned and looked at him.  "What is it?"

"Did you fight with a Werewolf sir?"

Vetinari looked down at himself and realised how others might see his newly revealed injuries.  "Not so much fight as get used as a scratching post to sharpen their claws.  The Baroness wanted some pre-hunt revenge."

            "Oh."  Carrot swallowed trying not to pursue the image in his mind – but the man's injuries made it pretty obvious how badly he had been used.  "Wolfgang, Angua's brother, broke my arm with one hand."  Carrot said in empathy.  Kneeling before the Patrician he started to dress the older man's cut and battered feet – he realised he would run out of bandages before half the wounds on the Patrician's body were treated.  He determined to just treat the worst and then hope the man could manage to stay on his horse long enough to get to Lady Margolotta's castle and the helping scarred hands of the resident Igor.

            "Yes, these Werewolves do not have much respect for human flesh and bone – I suppose we don't worry too much about the feelings of the creatures that we eat."  Vetinari winced as Carrot pulled the bandage a little to tight.

            "Sorry sir."

            "Carry on."  Vetinari said braving it.

            "That's why Angua ran away, she said she couldn't stand the thought of being a member of a clan that was so cruel."

            "Don't you think, therefore, that she deserves a new family to belong to?"  Vetinari asked, someone had to get Carrot's marital status sorted out.

            "I'm afraid that if I ask her I'll lose her."

            "If you ask there is a possibility she'll say no, but if you never ask it is a certainty she'll move on, that there'll be other suitors.  The King was only half in jest - if a more appropriate man or Werewolf comes along, it will be too late then.  Carrot, ask Angua to marry you, if that is what you want."

            "You are right – I'll ask her when we get back to Ankh-Morpork."

            "Why not now?"

            "Because if I scare her off in Ankh it's a long way back to Überwald and I'll have a chance to catch up with her.  If I scare her off in Überwald she'll have not far at all to run 'home'."  Vetinari nodded in agreement with the young man's logic.  Carrot continued dressing the Patrician's wounds, both men lost in their own thoughts, when he had finished the Watchman said.  "I'll give you some privacy to get dressed Sir."

            "Thank you for your help Carrot."

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

            "My Liege, I have done what is best for Avor."

_'Best for yourself you mean you miserable, ungrateful…'_ but Conari stopped those thoughts, he was standing before his ex-general who was chained to a wall in the castle's deepest dungeon.  Silana had sent her father to question the man – she would have been here herself, if the fire of her fury had been enough to give her the strength to walk.  Instead of his true thoughts the King put on a false smile.  "I realise your wishes have ever been for the best for Avor and that you felt some disappointment when the Princess chose Vetinari, but I cannot imagine you would have taken such action alone.  Tell me Audice, who coerced you into doing this?  I would like to understand your thoughts." The King grit his teeth on his smile and thought '_You threatened the life of my granddaughter you scum…'_

            "I was working alone."  The chained man denied.

            "But wayleighing the coach from Ankh-Morpork, the Patrician's coach, that must have been arranged by someone in Ankh – and negotiating with the Werewolves, to my knowledge you have not contacted nor been to Überwald in recent years.  Come man, help me understand who persuaded you to do this?"  He asked in all reasonableness.

            "I had my ways."  Audice still denied.

Conari unleashed his full anger and called on the spirit of Avor – he directed an irrestable demand for truth deep into Paggett's mind.  He saw Audice turn white; words began to issue from his mouth unbidden.  "Lord Worik Silk of Ankh, he first spoke to me when he came to give the Patrician's refusal of the Choosing.  Later he suggested a plan to dispose of Vetinari – he said I should be King after you pass…."  

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Weary beyond words they reached the gates of Margolotta's castle at sunset.   Igor swung wide the entrance to admit men, wolves and horses.  Servants quickly took the harried horses to stables.  "I'll stay with the wolves Sir, you get Lord Vetinari inside."  Angua said.

Vimes noticed what Angua had seen, that his Lordship was barely conscious in the saddle.  He and Carrot helped the spent man down.  Vetinari tried to deny their help but they just took an arm each over their shoulders and half carried him as Igor lead them to a downstairs sitting room.  Vetinari was pleased to see that the room was empty and slumped gratefully down on a couch.  Igor sent a servant for hot water and bandages while Vimes poured brandy.

Vetinari took a grateful gulp from his glass, swallowing he asked.  "Where is Lady Margolotta?"  The brandy burning in his empty belly, he had only managed to eat a little of the food Angua had cooked – his stomach was too starved and too sensitive.  He could already feel the effects of the alcohol begin warming and smoothing his jagged nerves – his body needed more sustenance than alcohol but he doubted he had the energy to imbibe anything more demanding than a few mouthfuls of the rich liquid.  He wondered for a moment if it was like this for vampires, liquid nourishment, nothing more demanding and it went straight to your soul.

"The thun hath only juth thet thir, her Ladythip will join uth later.  Her Ladythip told me to attend to your needth as thoon as you arrived."  Vetinari was grateful, he did not want Margolotta to see him like this – having an immortal lover had its drawbacks – she would remember the callow youth from his 'Grand Sneer' but today she would see the boy 25 years later battered by both time and the challenges of the last few days, while he would see – exactly the same glorious woman she had always been and would always be.  Igor set to examining Vetinari's wounds while Vimes topped up their glasses.

Carrot drank his brandy hurriedly then said.  "Sir, I'll go and help Angua attend to the wolves if you don't need me."  Vimes nodded to the younger man, who seemed to still have some energy, he himself slumped into a chair by the fire, no energy left.  Happy to just watch small clods of dried mud drop from his clothes to the expensively upholstered chair – he really hated vampires.  Soon servants came in with steaming kettles of water and bandages.  Igor opened up his box of medicines and got to work on the Patrician while Vimes tried not to watch – but somehow he couldn't bring himself to leave the room either – he had fought so hard to bring the man back that he did not feel he could leave him alone – and Vetinari for once seemed vulnerable – no he'd stay, he lit the first cigar he had had time for in days and settled down to wait in his chair by the fire.

Vimes didn't realise he had fallen asleep until he heard Margolotta's voice.  "Havelock, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you safe."

Margolotta shone in the room, a very vibrant and old spirit.  Vimes realised she hadn't bothered to shine for him at their earlier meeting in her coach, but here and now for Vetinari?  But of course, the Patrician, her old love, had a young wife.  Margolotta may not still want Vetinari but she would certainly want to compete in glamour with the younger woman.  "I have a message from King Conari, he said you were right about the general and you must go directly to Ankh-Morpork where the conspirator plots against you.  Does that make sense Havelock?"  Somehow she seemed coquettish and fragile, when Vimes knew her to be neither – he felt slightly embarrassed for her, working so hard for a man who was already the 'chosen' of another women.  Sam thought _'Thank god Sybil doesn't go in for this kind of thing.'_

Vimes knew Vetinari was weary beyond reason, so didn't expect much of a reply.  But Vetinari's voice was strong when he said.  "Thank you, my family and I are most grateful for your help."  So the Patrician was declaring that he had new affiliations – and that he was now part of a different family – so Margolotta would not be visiting his room tonight… or probably on any night.  The Prince of Avor had chosen his side.  "Margolotta, when can a carriage be made ready?"  He continued.

Margolotta's eyes widened in surprise.  "Havelock, you are not thinking of travelling tonight?"  He nodded, she looked to Igor.

            "I would noth recommend ith M'Lady."  The sewn man frowned.

            "Nevertheless, Ankh-Morpork needs me."  Vetinari said.

            "Shall I simply knock him out for his own good Margolotta?"  Vimes asked the vampire.

            "No, Sir Samuel, I have never known Havelock to take a risk without a good cause."  Turning back to the Patrician she said.  "I will see to the carriage at once."

            "Sir, with your injuries you should be resting."  Vimes said.

            "Rest is a luxury I will indulge after I have stopped Lord Silk."

'Gods that chair looks sturdy,' Vimes thought to himself.  'now, if only I can figure out a way to get it past Vetinari's assassin's reflexes and connect with the man's skull without killing him – then maybe Vetinari will slow down.  Cori Celesti knows what Silana is going to say when she hears I let him do this.  Silana, I wonder how she is?  Not too bad if Vetinari is going to Ankh-Morpork first – but then again, this is Vetinari.'  Out loud to the Patrician he said.  "And do you expect me to come with you?"

            "Not necessary, I can do what I need to do on my own."

            "All the more reason to accompany you."  Vimes forced himself out of his chair and went to warn Angua and Carrot to get ready to leave.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\///\\

Lord Silk began the meeting in the Rat's Chamber. "Sadly I need to report that Lord Vetinari perished while on a secret diplomatic mission to Überwald."  The lords and guild leaders broke into an astonished hubbub of speculation – Silk looked down at the table to hide his smile of satisfaction '_The man who keeps his head while all others are losing theirs…_.'  He wiped the smile from his face and looked up.  "As you will see…."

The door swung open.  "Ah Silk, thank you for opening the meeting for me."  Silk's mouth gaped and eyes flew wide as the Patrician, with the aid of his stick, strode into the room.  Silk was suddenly living his worst nightmare.

            "Congratulations to you and the Princess on the birth of your daughter."  Mrs Palm of the Seamstresses guild was the first to recover – she of course would have been informed of the Patrician's demise, if such an occurrence had taken place.

            "Thank you.  Now ladies and gentlemen, shall we to business."  Vetinari took his seat as Drumknott passed him a copy of the agenda – he scanned it quickly notating anything he wanted to pay particular attention to.  "Now, item one…." And he conducted the meeting exactly as if nothing had happened and as if one of the men at the table had not tried to make him a dog's dinner.

The meeting went all too quickly for Lord Silk, Vetinari did not appear to rush but all the items on the agenda were dealt with quickly and efficiently.  As each number was ticked off Silk felt each step take him closer to his doom.  He didn't know whether to run now or try to bluff his way through – his indecision kept him at the table though in no way could he have been described as 'present at the meeting' his mind was in too much of a whirlwind of terror and counter plot.

At the end of the meeting various people shook Vetinari's hand to congratulate him on his new state of parenthood.  Lord Rust mentioned the silly rumour that Vetinari had been killed.  "Really, and who told you this?"

            "Lord Silk of course, such a gossip, but he seemed very certain."

            "Lord Silk, I would be grateful if you would wait at the end – I have a few things I would like to say to you."

White faced, Silk stood his ground fixed by the Patrician's stare as the room emptied around them.  A fellow graduate of the Assassin's Guild he still knew he was no match for Vetinari.  "Ah Worik, surprisingly your price was not too high."

Silk thought he already knew which price, but he had to ask.  "What price?"

            "Why, at the Assassin's Guild of course.  My wife paid it without a quibble – as a little welcome home present for me."  Silana was learning to live in his grey world far quicker than he would have liked – as soon as Paggett had named Silk as his co-conspirator Silana had sent a clacks message for him to Drumknott and another one to the Guild – it would merely take a second message of confirmation to activate the inhumation.  "You must have upset quite a few people to be so cheaply ended."  Vetinari said, hoping to get a rise out of the man – he owed him for those bruised ribs among his other injuries.  Predictably Silk sprung, Vetinari side-stepped and used Silk's momentum, pushed him back, vertebrae pressed against the sharp edge of the conference table.  Bending him back with a knife suddenly at Silk's traitorous throat, Vetinari whispered close to his ear.  "I could save my wife her money right now…"  He pressed the blade a little harder, just breaking the skin, a trickle of blood.  "…but she does so like to buy me little trinkets, and I think it will be far more interesting for you not to know when the final blow will fall."

            "You bastard, you deserve…"

            "Come, don't waste what little time you have left on predictable insults."  He pulled Silk up and threw him towards the door with surprising strength (he'd regret that one tomorrow, Igor had done his best but under his clothes he was covered in scratches, stitches and bruises plus every muscle ached abominably), still it was worth it to see the look on Silk's face where he cowered on the floor.  "Goodbye Worik, we will not meet again."  Silk blanched, for a second undecided whether to try another attack, then his terror made his mind made-up for him, he scuttled out of the room just fast enough not to see Vetinari collapse into a chair.

            "Sir?"  Drumknott roused him with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a glass of brandy.  "I know you wanted to complete the meeting, but surely you should go to bed now, I'm sure the Princess would berate me if she knew I'd let you work when you are obviously so tired."  So Silana had even recruited his personal secretary into her web of welfare.

Vetinari scrubbed his hands across his face.  "Is there nothing that requires my immediate attention?"  He asked, feeling a little un-needed, and not knowing where he would find the energy to get up from the table.  He swirled the liquid round the glass and then downed the brandy in one.

            "Nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow Sir."  The administrator assured.

            "Very well, have someone bring up Wuffles please."  Wearily, the alcohol warming through his stomach and giving him a false sense of near well being, Vetinari rose and leaning on his cane far more heavily than usual, made his way to his bedroom.  The fire had been lit, the bed turned down, he was unbuttoning his robe when a servant arrived with hot chocolate, another servant carrying Wuffles in his basket.  Vetinari thanked them.  After they left he poured half his drink into Wuffles' bowl who lapped it up gratefully.  He gave the dog a good scratch behind the ear, standing up feeling every muscle and bone complain, he dropped his clothes, crawled into bed thinking of Silana and was asleep before he realised it.

The End


End file.
